


Oblivion

by neraxx



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And He's a Total Brat Because of it, Coping, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Go gentle on me, Hurt/Comfort, Hurts So Good, Kakashi is just sitting in the background laughing, Kinda?, Night Terrors, Porn With Plot, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Shikamaru Isn't Sleeping, Smut, This is my first NSFW piece, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 08:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15408783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neraxx/pseuds/neraxx
Summary: ob·liv·i·on (n): the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening.::So he lies, and lies, and lies, until he feels sick with it, until he wants every word spilling out of his mouth to be a lie because, maybe then, it’ll be obvious enough for someone to finally say something.::[CU][Canon Divergence][Shikamaru x Sakura]





	Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> written as a gift for [hat8su](https://hat8su.tumblr.com/) for the 2018 naruto gift exchange!  
> pairing: shikamaru x sakura  
> prompt: shikamaru suffering from night terrors and having trouble sleeping.

* * *

**O B L I V I O N**

* * *

The smell is the first thing to hit him – a crisp, metallic tang which has become so prevalent in his life.

Shikamaru lowers his head in suspicion, the still darkness of the room offering no clues about the origin of the scent.

The shadows mask everything. He can feel them stirring around him, twitching in agitated anticipation, yet he can’t seem to bend them to his will.

It’s then that he realizes something is wrong.

This…this situation is so _inexplicably_ _wrong,_ and he can’t put his finger on _why_. His hands flex restlessly at his side, stomach churning with trepidation.

Shikamaru takes a step forward, then another, a vibrant flash of crimson swirling in his mind's eye. He feels light, airy, a bundle of otherworldly emotions that define his unease.

Curiosity prickles through him when his toes curl, encountering something wet and warm. It stains the floorboards in an ominous, winding trail which Shikamaru doesn’t hesitate to follow. He cannot bring himself to be wary, to stop and think about what is going on. There is a _need_ driving him, an insatiable desire, and he finds himself numbly stumbling forward in order to quell this unknown urgency.

It only takes five more paces before he happens upon the source of that repugnant smell.

And Shikamaru screams.

He screams to the point where his voice cracks, where his throat feels raw and itchy, his blood pounding in his ears.

He can’t tell where Ino ends and Choji begins. Their bodies are a distorted heap of deformed flesh and broken limbs. They are riddled with wounds, coated in congealed and cracked blood.

Her lips are mangled, nose caked in dried blood, disjointed at a sharp right angle. One of her arms is missing, and her hair is tangled, matted mess plastered to her skull.

Choji is smeared in red, a giant, gaping hole in the center of his chest.

Shikamaru tries to surge forward, to help them if he can, but the shadows suddenly come alive. They wind their way up his calves and thighs, up his arms and across his torso, like large, sinister snakes, ensnaring him.

A boisterous laugh echoes throughout the room. It borders on maniacal. It’s familiar, haunting, and sends a sharp spark of fear shooting down his spine. The cackle surrounds him, binding him in hysteria, and Shikamaru can do nothing more than let it pull him under.

That laugh suffocates him for the rest of his dream.

* * *

-o-

 _“You’ll never fucking get rid of me kid,” Hidan promises. “I’m_ your _god now.”_

-o-

* * *

There’s nothing he can do to stop them. _Nothing_.

Therefore, Shikamaru does the only thing that he can think of to cope: he lies. He manages to convince everyone after the war, only because everything is so goddamn chaotic, and most people can’t see beyond their own issues to notice his.

No one realizes that he’s lying his ass off with almost every word he speaks, and eventually, it becomes a habit.

With the passage of time, the people around him heal and move on, but he does not. It’s just one more thing that he struggles to understand.

Why? Why isn’t he getting _better_?

So he loosely maintains his façade, hoping that someone will call him out on his bullshit. Praying that someone will challenge him. No one ever does, a let down that he quickly becomes accustomed to.

Before long, it all becomes so _exhausting_.

Shikamaru is tired of being angry all the time, but he can’t stop lying. He’s in too deep, and he doesn’t want to seem weak, to call for aid simply because he’s having trouble catching a good night’s sleep.

It continues to spiral out of control; around and around his life goes, like water spinning down a drain.

They are little lies, stupid lies, obvious lies. But they are pervasive, and he cannot hold them back.

How is his day? _Good_.

Is he busy this weekend? _Yes_.

Does he need help? _No_.

He doesn’t blame his night terrors on his father’s death. Not even Asuma’s. It’s not the war that has screwed him up, or the stress of his new employment. Shikamaru knows that these events were traumatic for him, but he has analyzed the last couple of years of his life over and over again, trying to pinpoint just when things turned to absolute shit, and has been unable to find the answer.

It could be a mix of everything that has happened over the last five years, or none of it. He is left with nothing but the surety that there is no _current_ external source.

There must be some part of his brain knocked loose that’s affecting the way he functions.

So he lies, and lies, and lies, until he feels sick with it, until he wants every word spilling out of his mouth to be a lie because, maybe then, it’ll be obvious enough for someone to finally say something.

He knows his night terrors aren’t going away anytime soon, that he is going to be stuck with these demons for a long, long time.

And it just the thought of it makes him feel so goddamn _tired_.

* * *

-o-

_“You’re a disappointment,” Shikaku scolds. “This isn’t the type of man I raised you to be.”_

-o-

* * *

Shikamaru wakes with a start, jolting upright with a gurgled half-grunt, half-gasp.

His body promptly protests the sudden movement, the muscles in his lower back pulsing with dull distress.

"Woah, Shikamaru," a soft voice calls out. "It's okay, just relax. You're safe. Everything’s fine."

He catches something moving out of the corner of his eye. The lingering adrenaline from his nightmare, paired with instincts that have been drilled into him since he was a child, result in him moving before he can fully wrap his mind around his current circumstances. Shikamaru throws himself from the bed, intent on cutting off his potential assailant. If he can catch them off guard, he _might_ stand a chance. Either way, it’ll buy him time to assess the situation.

Unfortunately, however, it seems his legs are not on the same page as his brain.

They are numb, non-functioning, dead weight, and his would-be attack turns into a helpless topple towards the floor. Before his face can meet the pristine white tiles, he is caught, cheek pressed against something soft and warm.

“Well, I can’t say that this is the typical reaction my patients have,” that same disembodied voice humors. A bell-like giggle shakes the form beneath him. It’s different from the one that typically plagues his nightmares. It’s warm, friendly, a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

“Don’t tell me Kakashi-sensei is rubbing off on you,” the voice scolds, no real ire in its tone. “You fainted, so you’re staying here, whether you like it or not. I won’t hear any _‘ifs,’_ _‘ands,’_ or _‘buts’_ about it.”

When Shikamaru tilts his head to peer at his savior, he’s entranced by amused jade.

* * *

-o-

_“You’re weak,” Asuma sneers. “I trained you better than this.”_

-o-

* * *

“You need to eat more. You look like a bag of bones,” Ino scolds him one day.

They’re supposed to be training, working to smooth out some of the kinks in their Ino-Shika-Cho formation.

This is a rarity nowadays, for them to be able to get together. Choji is becoming more involved in the day-to-day bureaucracy of his clan, and Ino, busy with the responsibilities of being an heiress herself, is also single-handedly running her family’s flower shop.

Both of his old teammates try to blame him for the lack of correspondence between the trio, complaining that Shikamaru has the busiest schedule amongst the three.

He doesn’t deny it. Being an aid to the Hokage is no easy task. He spends more time in the Hokage tower than he does in his own home. However, he likes to think that if they _really_ wanted to spend time with him, they _would_ and _could_. All they have to do is ask.

Their generation is older now; they have responsibilities. Long gone are their carefree days in the academy. They’ve survived numerous battles, deaths of their friends, their village’s destruction, and a war. Though Konoha is on the mend, there are repercussions that come with a hard-won peace. The inability to hang out with your childhood friends on a daily basis is just one of them.

Today, he is no mood for an argument with Ino, nor is he going to feed into her nagging.

Ever since his fainting episode, Kakashi has been purposely reassigning parts of his workload, delegating most of his tasks to the other aids. Shikamaru knows that he means well, but the increase in free time has the opposite effect from what the Rokudaime intends.

Shikamaru likes to be busy.

He’s used to working himself to the bone, slaving away for extensively long hours to the point where he collapses into bed at night. He has a village to assist in running, strategies to plan, missions to help delegate.

It helps him keep his mind busy. Helps him keep the voices at bay.

Shikamaru isn’t comfortable with having most of his afternoons and evenings free, and the unspent energy has cut into what little rest he typically achieves.

He’s had the same headache for the last three days; a constant, sharp pain that throbs in his temples. Ino’s complaints are doing nothing to alleviate the pain.

“I eat plenty,” Shikamaru mumbles in return, trying not to be distracted from his kata. His form is horribly sloppy. His arms feel like they’re weighed down with bricks, flailing haphazardly as he sways into different stances. He’s pretty sure Choji has noticed.

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Ino snaps before reaching over and pulling on the shoulder of his flak jacket. “Your clothes are literally hanging off of you, Shikamaru. I’m seriously concerned about you! Forehead said you ended up in the hospital the other day because you overworked yourself. _Again_.”

Choji chimes in softly, “You _have_ lost a little weight.”

Unable to remain focused, Shikamaru drops his stance, sending a pointed glare in his fair-haired teammate’s direction.

“Will you two just _fucking_ drop it?” he growls. The discomfort of his near-constant migraine makes itself known again, thrumming intolerably behind his eyes. “Seriously. You’re both more trouble than you’re worth.”

Concern flashes across Choji’s face and Ino looks visibly stricken, but Shikamaru doesn’t try to apologize or ease the sting of his piercing words. Instead, he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Without another word, he turns on his heel and leaves the training grounds.

* * *

-o-

_Yoshino can’t stand to even look at him. “You’re not my son.”_

-o-

* * *

“Shikamaru?” Kakashi starts. The Kage’s tone is inquisitively demure, like he can’t believe the words that have just come out of Shikamaru’s mouth.

Whatever Kakashi is about to follow up with is cut off by a disgruntled huff from the opposite side of the room.

The Rokudaime’s assessing eyes slant in Sakura’s direction. She is leaning against the wall, arms crossed. She doesn’t flinch under her former teacher’s stare, too busy gaping at Shikamaru, expression a mix of shock and apprehension. Her lips are parted, her jaw working tirelessly as she seemingly struggles to find the right words to say.

“What?” Shikamaru barks out, looking back and forth between the two.

There’s a short pause, an uncomfortable silence settling across the office. Kakashi’s eyes never stray from Sakura’s face, gaze carefully guarded.

“They’re _genin_ ,” she incredulously states a moment later, finally having found her voice. “Shikamaru, you can’t be seriously suggesting we send a team of _genin_ on a B-rank mission. You shouldn’t even advise sending them on a _C-rank_ mission. That’s just reckless! We’d be sending them out there to _die_.”

Shikamaru doesn’t know why her opposition irks him as much as it does, but her shrill voice is grating away at his already thin patience.

If he were to sit down and think about this rationally, Sakura is correct. There is no reason to send a team of inexperienced ninja out on this mission. However, it’s been thirty-six hours since he last slept and his functionality is at a bare minimum. He doesn’t have the energy to sit here and debate the logistics of who is capable and who is incapable of being sent on a mission. This is what they signed up for.

Shikamaru feels fire ignite in his belly, and his chest puffs out in defiance.

“Yeah? So? What rank were you when you went on the escort mission for that bridge builder? That turned into an A-rank mission, if I remember correctly.” He snidely continues, “Think of all the people who put their lives on the line during the war. They were from all different _ranks_. We’re shinobi. It’s what we _do_.”

Sakura pushes herself off the wall, before aggressively jabbing a finger in his direction and exclaiming, “You’re not right in the head. Ever since your stint in the hospital, you’ve gotten worse. Look at the bags under your eyes. When was the last time you slept, Shikamaru?”

“Oh, fuck it all,” he grouses with exasperation. “You sound like Ino. I don’t need either of you looking out for me. I take care of myself just fine. I sleep just fine. I eat just fine. And none of that has _anything_ to do with my ability to advise.”

“Now children,” Kakashi cheerily cuts in, interrupting the hostile reply Sakura was getting ready to unleash. “Shikamaru’s health aside, we really should be getting back to setting up the mission schedule for next month. Sakura, you mentioned something earlier about how there will be more med-nins available in the next quarter?”

Sometime later, during Sakura’s explanation of improved recruitment procedures the medical corps have put into place, Kakashi peeks at him out of the corner of his eye.

The glance lets Shikamaru know that the previous discussion is far from over.

* * *

-o-

 _“You don’t care if we live or if we die,” Ino cries. “You’re a_ monster _.”_

-o-

* * *

When Shikamaru hears a knock on his front door the following afternoon, he expects it to be one of the other Hokage aids or possibly Ino and Choji looking to drag him out for a meal.

What he is not expecting, however, is Sakura Haruno, dressed in full hospital regalia.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, languidly leaning against the door frame.

“Hokage’s orders,” she replies, using her shoulder to push past him to wander into the house. “Kakashi-sensei is… _concerned_ about your health. I’m here to see what I can do to help.”

She makes her way toward his kitchen, and Shikamaru, uncharacteristically silenced by her explanation, does nothing more than follow behind her dumbly.

When the shock finally unravels from his tongue a short while later, he blurts out, “I don’t need a _caretaker_!”

“I don’t agree,” Sakura says cynically, eyeing the pile of dirty dishes stacked up in his sink. “Whether you like it or not, I’m sticking around.”

She holds up a hand to silence him when it appears that he is about to speak again. “I’m not finished. I’m here on Kakashi-sensei’s orders. There’s nothing you can do or say to change that.”

Sakura pauses just long enough to release a small sigh before she continues. “But, I _am_ willing to work out a deal. One that will at least benefit us both. It’ll keep us out of each other’s hair as much as possible. So before you go on ranting and raving like a lunatic, how about we discuss this like two grown adults over a cup a tea?”

He’s stock still, mulling over her words when she impatiently asks, “Your mugs are…?”

Shikamaru’s lips purse before he reluctantly directs, “Second cabinet to your left.”

* * *

-o-

_Choji just sighs. “I can’t believe I called you my best friend.”_

-o-

* * *

They come to...somewhat of an understanding.

Sakura will be at the house every other day during the week, and remain within the Nara estate all day on Sundays.

She’s there mostly to observe, to regulate certain aspects of his life which she deems peculiar. It feels like he’s been assigned a nanny, but Sakura reminds him that it’s for his benefit, so he can get his health back on track.

She’ll be sending weekly reports back to Kakashi, not that Shikamaru believes the Hokage will _actually_ read them. After an extended period, Shikamaru will have to undergo a physical and mental exam. Only after he passes will he be able to take on his regular workload again.

The only bright side to this entire ordeal is that Sakura is adamant about sharing domestic responsibilities.

' _I won't sit_ _around and mooch off of you while I'm here,_ ' she said. ' _Plus, you look like you could go for a home-cooked meal._ '

The only point in their negotiations where they disagree is when it came to 'after hours.’ Sakura wants to remain around the house well after he settles down for the night, mostly to make sure he goes to sleep. It would also help her discern if there are any other variables in his environment, besides the strain that comes with his job, that could be causing his distress.

Her explanation makes sense, and though Shikamaru knows she means well, he still vehemently refuses.

Sakura can stay after dinner and complete some of her own work while making sure he doesn’t stay up too late, but if Shikamaru has anything to say about this absurd ‘mission,’ it’s that Sakura Haruno _will_ _not_ be anywhere near him while he’s asleep.

Being a shinobi makes it difficult to rest around others, especially those you don’t trust or know particularly well. But, it’s not that Shikamaru doesn’t trust Sakura. It’s the exact opposite actually.

He doesn’t trust himself.

Shikamaru's fits are, for lack of a better word, threatening. Neither his body nor his mind are completely his own. Pair that with unhinged instincts and rampant hormones, and you have a recipe for disaster.

Sakura doesn’t take particularly well to being restricted to working within certain hours, but she soon realizes that there is no changing his mind. She’ll work around these restraints, collect the necessary information, and figure out what he needs to improve upon.

Shikamaru knows this is supposed to be for his overall welfare—to make it so that he can finally relax, and potentially improve the strained relationships currently plaguing his social life.

He knows that this is _good._ That this will help.

So, why is it that Shikamaru feels nothing but foreboding?

* * *

-o-

 _“I left you because you are_ nothing. _You will amount to nothing,” Temari declares._

-o-

* * *

Things go well, for a while.

For the first few days, they try and avoid each other as much as possible. Sakura isn't pleased to not be at her station at the hospital, and Shikamaru doesn't see the need to have her there at all.

Things start to progress more civilly after they play shogi. He doesn’t remember who asked whom to play, but it was right after dinner on a Wednesday night, and both of their workloads were somewhat light. Boredom caused Sakura to wander, and she stumbled upon his father’s old shogi board.

Shikamaru had never had the opportunity to play with Sakura before, but he remembered his father commenting on her skill. It seems when Shikaku was on Lady Tsunade's staff, the elder Nara spent many of his lunch breaks amusing the Fifth's apprentice.

Though she didn't beat him, Sakura came surprisingly close, and after that, Shikamaru saw her in a new light. Halting conversations began to turn more companionable, and the petty grudge he was holding against her presence in his home began to ease.

Though they aren’t the best of friends, not like how he is with Choji and Ino, there is something there. The feeling is...different.

A good different.

* * *

-o-

_The voices in his head are so garbled at this point that he can’t distinguish whose is whose._

-o-

* * *

The one thing he’s been hoping to avoid occurs sooner than he anticipates.

When Shikamaru comes back to himself, crawling out of the murky haze of restless sleep, he is immediately aware of two things:

One, he is no longer in his bed.

And two, his hands are tightly wrapped around Sakura’s throat.

They are a tangled mess of limbs, sprawled out on his bedroom floor. His field of vision is filled with a low, green glow, and it takes Shikamaru a moment to realize that both of her hands are cradling his face, the thrum of chakra skirting across his skin.

He releases her and scrambles to stand, chest tight with anxiety. A wave of shame crashes over him, causing him to tremble, and he has to fight down the bile that he feels rising in his throat. His startled gaze remains glued to her face, attempting to gauge her reaction, but Sakura’s expression is uncomfortably neutral.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Shikamaru shouts, voice strained an octave higher than normal. “You’re not _supposed_ to be here!”

Sakura doesn’t respond, nor does she move from her position laid out on the floor. Shikamaru spends a lengthy moment trying to collect himself, trying to calm his rapid heartbeat and regulate his breathing. His extremities feel numb, and the collar of his shirt is drenched in sweat, but nothing seems to unhinge him more than her silence.

Eventually, Sakura slowly pushes herself up on her elbows and Shikamaru flinches back at the sight of the marks beginning to bloom on her pale skin.

“Well,” she rasps not looking in his direction. Her tongue darts out to swipe along her bottom lip. “Now it all makes sense.”

Sakura turns toward him then, giving him a calculated once over. She starts her scrutinizing assessment with his bare feet and ends it where their eyes finally meet.

Shikamaru isn’t sure what he was expecting. Disappointment, maybe? Undoubtedly, some form of anger. He’s surprised to find neither. Sakura regards him almost…tenderly?

“Why don’t we talk about this over a cup of tea?” she offers.

* * *

-o-

 _There are no other voices in his dreams that night_.

-o- 

* * *

"You _fucking_ drugged me," he seethes upon entering the kitchen the next morning.

Sakura doesn't raise her head to acknowledge his presence, doesn’t even flinch at his elevated tone. She instead continues to casually read through the medical journal in front of her, a steaming cup of coffee cradled between both hands.

Her blatant disregard of his temper throws Shikamaru _off_.

He was prepared for an argument, a clap-back, some reaction…anything really.

He hesitates, and in that momentary lapse, all of the crass words he has saved for her die on the tip of his tongue. It’s frustrating that she has this power over him, this unique ability to catch him unawares. He is a world-renowned tactician, a proficient shinobi, and an advisor to the _Hokage_.

Yet a woman with bright, bubblegum pink hair can somehow manage to throw _him_ for a loop?

In an effort to gain back some of the ground he lost, Shikamaru remains silent, unmoving in the doorway, hands clenched into fists at his sides. His dark eyes narrowly fix on Sakura’s relaxed form.

A moment of strained silence passes, then another, and it’s only when Shikamaru is beginning to square his shoulders to unleash another string of reprimands that Sakura finally lifts her head in his direction.

Still blissfully unperturbed by his ire, she replies, "Who? Me?”

“ _Yes_ you, you troublesome fucking woman,” he bites back.

“I didn't drug you,” she murmurs with a shrug.  “I just slipped some melatonin into your tea. It's a hormone that assists in regulating the sleep cycle, not some mass-produced pharmaceutical. It’s completely legal."

"You still gave me something without my consent, Sakura," Shikamaru jabs in retaliation, upper lip curled back in a snarl. "That was _wrong,_ and you know it. This is absolute bullshit. I'm a grown _man_. I don't need you looking after me, making sure that I go to bed on time like I'm some sort of…some sort of _child_!"

Sakura doesn't immediately reply to his hostility and, surprisingly, Shikamaru doesn’t expect her to. After that day in Kakashi’s office, Sakura has remained annoyingly impassive in the face of his outbursts. She takes everything that he says in stride, and it only works to fuel his displeasure more.

Green eyes regard him coolly for another brief moment before they shift to look back down at the text in front of her.

“You slept through the night without having another episode, didn’t you?” she asks casually before taking a sip of her coffee.

Shikamaru opens his mouth to refute her, because no, he always suffers from his nightmares. Ever since the end of the war, there hasn’t been a night in which he wasn’t visited by the dark demons plaguing his mind.

He would love to tell her she is wrong, to tell her that she has no idea what the hell she’s talking about. It would be so easy just to tell Sakura to _fuck off_.

But…

Shikamaru doesn’t recall waking up again last night.

* * *

-o-

 _The voices are quieter tonight._ _There is a new voice amongst the others, one that he’s never heard before._

-o-

* * *

Kakashi comes to visit them the following week.

He says the reason for his visit is work related, that he wants Shikamaru to look at some paperwork before he comes into the office the following day. Shikamaru knows that it’s a lie. He is so proficient at spinning his own that it’s easy to tell when others do it.

He briefly contemplates calling the Kage out on it, but in the end, thinks better of it.

Of course, Sakura is more than happy to have her old sensei around. The duo falls into a companionable bubble, one that Shikamaru cannot breach. Not that he tries.

Sakura insists that Kakashi stay for lunch, and, at being offered a meal that he won’t have to pay for, Kakashi doesn’t turn down the opportunity.

Shikamaru helps out with the preparation in whatever way he can: fetching things that are too high for Sakura’s reach, chopping up some of the vegetables for the stir-fry, and making sure that his would-be caretaker avoids scarring herself when she puts too much oil in the pan on the stove.

When he turns from the chaos that has become his kitchen counter, Shikamaru finds Kakashi’s eyes on him.

The Kage’s posture is relaxed, but his eyes are focused, scheming. Shikamaru can almost see the gears turning in Kakashi’s head, and it’s not long before he has a general idea of what subject the Hokage’s unspoken questions pertain to.

The subtle flick of Kakashi’s eyes in Sakura’s direction confirms it.

Throughout their meal, Shikamaru braces himself for Kakashi to say something, but is utterly surprised when the Kage doesn’t say a word.

Instead, Kakashi gives Shikamaru a lazy cock of his head and an eye-crinkling smile.

* * *

-o-

* * *

The house it quiet, _too quiet_.

If there is one thing Shikamaru has learned about Sakura in the last few months, it’s that she is anything but _quiet_.

At first he doesn’t mind the new calm, but as the hour wears on Shikamaru finds that he can’t focus on his work. He’s used to her noise—the way she praddles about the house, the slam of pots and pans when she cooks, the vexed sighs that emanate from her when she reads a particularly distressing report from the hospital.

Her presence is soothing.

Shikamaru lasts another ten minutes before he goes looking for her. It takes him another five to come to the conclusion that she isn’t anywhere in the house.

He’s not frantic. He’s not. He just wants to make sure that she’s safe, and if his voice takes on a tense pitch when he calls out her name, it’s just because of that.

It takes him close to an hour, and he has to extend his search into the forest surrounding his home, but he finds her.

Sakura is standing with her back to him, hands outstretched and palms up, holding out the treats he helped her bake a few days ago. Two young doe are observing her curiously.

The deer approach with caution, sniffing the air with intrigue. The elder of the two ever so slowly reaches out to nibble at the grain treat in Sakura’s palm, followed closely behind by its companion.

Sakura releases a delighted breath and Shikamaru can’t help but be drawn in by the sound. His steps disturb a pile of dried leaves, and all occupants in the clearing turn their heads in his direction.

The deer are ultimately unbothered by his presence and return their attention to the food in front of them.

“Shikamaru,” Sakura whispers excitedly, lips pulled taut with a grin. “Come over here. Help me feed them.”

He feels a tension that he didn’t realize he’d been holding release from his shoulders, and a lazy smile curls in the corner of his mouth.

“Alright, I’m coming.”

* * *

-o-

* * *

“You look better,” Ino informs him one afternoon. “I’m sure Forehead has something to do with it.”

Choji cuts in, “I’m sure it’s all those home-cooked meals she’s making him.”

“Or because she’s finally forcing him to _relax_ ,” Ino suggests.

Shikamaru hums thoughtfully, considering. “No,” he states with a small shake of his head. “I think it’s something else.”

* * *

-o-

* * *

His hand is already touching her before his mind can register the movement.

Sakura seems just as surprised as he is, but Shikamaru doesn’t stop to process her awe. He’s too busy memorizing the texture of her hair, distracted with running the pads of his fingers along the soft shell of her ear.

When he pulls back, he clears his throat, putting his hands in his pockets.

“I…um, sorry.” He says, unintelligently. “It...uh...looked distracting, with it falling in your eyes and all.”

The smile she gives him in thanks makes his knees go weak.

* * *

-o-

* * *

She finds him sitting on the back porch.

Summer evenings in Konoha are a cool, yet sticky affair and more often than not, Shikamaru finds his solace outside.

“Those are bad for you, you know.”

Her voice is sharp, stony. It cuts across the twilight’s calm.

He tilts his head in her direction, one brow arched in silent question. Sakura huffs, crossing her arms as she pads across the terrace to stand beside him. Her chin jerks in the direction of the cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers, pungent smoke curling skyward.

Her nose wrinkles in distaste at the smell.

Shikamaru tries to ignore the way his body unconsciously leans towards her, attempts to overlook the way his heart helplessly flutters at her proximity.

He’s beginning to feel like a teenager again.

He’s on edge, skittish. Her presence is off-putting. Not in a way that makes him angry or annoyed, but instead, unsure. It’s a novel and interesting thing to experience.

“So is the copious amount of alcohol your mentor drinks,” he rebuffs, not unkindly. “I don’t see you trying to stop her.”

The corner of Sakura’s mouth twitches like she’s trying to suppress a smile. She leans towards him, unraveling one of her arms from across her chest, and plucks the cigarette out of his grasp. She brings it to her lips, taking one long, smooth drag.

Barely even a second later, Sakura pulls the butt away from her mouth and with a short exhale, she blows the smoke right in his face.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you,” Sakura asks, dropping the cigarette to the floor and crushing it with her heel, “that you shouldn’t get in the way of a woman and her vices?”

She offers him a smirk, and with nothing more than a flutter of pink hair, she is gone, wandering back inside the house.

And it’s in this moment that Shikamaru falls.

* * *

-o-

* * *

It takes six months, but she finally beats him in a game of shogi.

It doesn’t come as much of a surprise; their nightly games have become more and more competitive.

Her elation is contagious, blanketing him in its electrifying exuberance.

She’s practically vibrating with giddiness, cheeks flushed and hair mussed. Sakura looks beautiful in her happiness, it’s tangible, and Shikamaru can’t help but relish in it, grinning in return.

When their gazes meet, he can feel sparks dance across his skin, and something _shifts_. She feels it too, he knows. The way her breath hitches in her throat makes his belly quake. They’ve been skirting around this for weeks now.

Sakura doesn’t take her eyes off of him, doesn’t look away as she pitches forward, onto her hands and knees. She crawls towards him achingly slowly, maneuvering around their board game with ease.

Shikamaru can’t bring himself to do anything but watch her, afraid that if he shows how eager he is it might scare her off. His hands curl into fists in his lap, and he waits and waits for her to position herself in front of him.

It’s too much, the distance between them. It’s almost as if to remain apart would break them into pieces. They both lean forward, panting from the sheer weight of their shared tension.

She moans into his mouth at the first touch of their lips on one another. It’s over too quickly, too chaste. She must not like the angle because Sakura straddles him a moment later, their bodies pressed tight to one another before she dives in for more. Her taste is a unique mix of mint and vanilla, cut with the bouquet of his cigarettes.

It’s the most delicious thing he has ever tasted.

Shikamaru has never felt this desperate before, this ravenous. It’s wet, open-mouthed, and sloppy. A clash of teeth and tongues. Her hands touch every part of him that she can reach, feeling how solid he is, muscles bunching beneath her palms. He reaches up to slide his nails through her hair, mouths parting for a quick breath of air before their tongues slide against each other again.

There’s no going back after this, not that he wants to. He doesn’t fight it.

He is being consumed by her, wrapped up in the essence of Sakura Haruno.

And Shikamaru drowns and drowns and drowns.

* * *

-o-

_The voices are a like a lull now, like static. Background noise._

-o-

* * *

“S-shika…I-I can’t…I can’t,” she whines from underneath him.

“You can,” he growls into the skin of her shoulder, punctuating his statement with a particularly deep thrust. “And you _will_.”

Sakura moans loudly, reaching out to press her palms against the bathroom mirror. His tongue drags against the side of her neck before his teeth sink into the patch of sensitive skin behind her ear. Her fingers curl in response, nails clicking against the tempered glass.

He runs both hands down the length of her spine, one roughly digging into the flesh of her ass while the other grips at her hip, raising it a fraction to adjust the angle. Sakura’s response is instantaneous. She practically _screams_.

Shikamaru watches her expression contort in the mirror, watches the way her mouth falls into a small, stupefied ‘ _o_ ’ as he hits that sweet spot inside of her. It’s probably the most erotic thing he has ever seen.

He ignores the way heat rises in his cheeks, hips bucking as he presses close, trying to create more friction. The hand that was pressed into her backside begins to ascend once more, brushing along her ribs before wrapping itself up in the coral colored hair at the nape of her neck.

“You’re not allowed to cum,” he orders with a rough tug, slowing his pace by a fraction. “Not yet.”

“ _Shikamaru_.” The way she calls out his name sends a rush of pleasure straight to his cock. “P-please.”

“Tell me, Sakura, how bad do you want it?” Shikamaru leans up to murmur in her ear, keeping her hips steady as he grinds down, purposefully slow. He pulls back suddenly, leaving just the tip of himself inside of her. “Do you feel empty without my cock inside you, Sakura? Be a good girl and tell me.”

She groans, an animalistic noise that spawns from the back of her throat. To have her like this, reduced to nothing more than a writhing, wanton mess strokes his ego more than he would like to admit. Heat coils in his belly at the noise, and he knows that to deny her any longer would be to deny himself, but Shikamaru is a greedy man. He wants to hear those words fall from her bruised lips.

“Please, Shikamaru,” Sakura pants, refusing to look at his reflection in the mirror. “Please fuck me. Let me cum.”

“Look at me, Sakura,” he demands, tightening his grip on the back of her head.

When she doesn’t immediately follow his order, Shikamaru withdraws himself completely. Sakura mewls in protest, but it’s enough to get his point across. Twin shimmering pools of emerald meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Shikamaru,” she breathes desperately. “ _Please_.”

He shifts his stance, pushing her legs further apart with his knees before driving forward and sheathing himself within her once more. Sakura gasps before releasing a long, drawn-out moan, chest heaving as she tries to adjust to the sudden intrusion.

Shikamaru doesn’t give her much time to collect herself, pulling her head back roughly as he fills her over and over again. He muffles her continued cries by slanting his mouth over her own, biting down on her bottom lip hard enough to break skin. He laves at the wound with his tongue a second later.

“Hold on,” he whispers.

At her jerky nod, he releases the hold he has on her hair, moving both of his hands to the flare of her waist.

Desperation begins to build as Shikamaru increases his pace, hips stuttering as his desire to fulfill her request consumes him.

* * *

-o-

* * *

It randomly hits him one day.

He’s rifling through the pile of clothes on his bedroom floor, looking for one of his spare mesh undershirts. His endeavor brings him face to face with one of Sakura’s blouses.

Shikamaru rubs the cotton material between his thumb and forefinger, idly wondering just when she left it behind.

He doesn’t give the article of clothing much thought beyond that, tossing it haphazardly on the end of his bed.

When he ventures into the bathroom a little while later, Shikamaru notices that there is a toothbrush on the counter that wasn’t there before. It’s an obnoxiously bright teal color, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the muted earth tones of the washroom’s decor. A flush of panic settles over him at the sight, and his heart gives a sharp tug in his chest.

He tries to ignore the way unease settles in his bones.

It doesn’t mean anything.

 _It doesn’t mean anything_.

It’s just a few knick-knacks, personal belongings that she might need during her stay here.

But it isn’t.

Her presence is everywhere. Absolutely _everywhere_.

Her books are in every room, so is her paperwork from the hospital. There’s a blanket on his couch that he doesn’t remember purchasing, and a rucksack, summoning scroll, and a bunch of other miscellaneous contents scattered about on his living room floor.

His mounting ire reaches its peak when he finds Sakura standing in the kitchen, hunched over his stove, preparing... _something_.

His stomach gives a traitorous growl at the smell.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

It’s funny how he finds himself repeating those words under a different context, but it’s true. She’s not supposed to be here. It’s one of her days off.

Sakura, unaware of his turbulent mood, turns to regard him with a bright smile.

“We didn’t have any leftovers last night,” she explains. “I figured instead of you gorging yourself on takeout, I could put together something for you.”

He should feel grateful. He should be thanking Kakashi for dropping this woman into this life.

But he’s not excited. Shikamaru is not happy or appreciative or any of the other emotions that express pleasure.

He’s _angry_.

“I don’t need you taking care of me,” he suddenly snaps.

Sakura’s smile falters, brows drawing down into a frown. “Excuse me?”

Shikamaru storms fully into the room, stomping right up to her and corralling her body against the countertop.

“You heard me,” he curtly states. “I don’t need you taking care of me. I don’t need you here. I can do just fine on my own.”

Sakura’s grin completely drops now. Ever so calmly, she places the wooden spoon she is holding onto the countertop before asking, “What’s crawled up your ass today?”

Shikamaru grits his teeth, lashing out with, “I don’t _want_ you here. I _never_ wanted you here, and now you’ve all but moved in. This is a mission for you. Just because we fuck, doesn’t change that. You’ll be leaving at the end of next month. It’ll do you well to remember that.”

He can see the hurt reflected in her gaze, see the little world that she imagined for them after all this was over shatter.

Sakura draws herself up to full height, but remains silent, merely staring at him. Shikamaru is perturbed by her reticence, shifting uncomfortably from one foot then to the other.

She’s searching for an explanation, looking for a reason for his uncharacteristic outburst.

He tries to remain unmoving, unnerved, but Shikamaru fears that she’s going to call him out on his bullshit. That Sakura will be the first to be able to read through his little lies and figure out the real reason why he’s pulling away from her.

Why he’s withdrawing.

Whatever it is she’s looking for, she must find it because a minute later Sakura relaxes slightly.

She offers him one small nod of her head before she slips past him. Shikamaru can hear her wander throughout his home, collecting her belongings with meticulous ease. He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t try to call out and halt her.

He doesn’t even move.

He continues to stand in his kitchen long after the slamming of the front door echoes throughout the empty house.

* * *

-o-

* * *

He doesn’t sleep for the next three days.

His dreams are dark reenactments of what he said to her, and Shikamaru can’t handle hearing those words over and over again.

So, he doesn’t close his eyes.

* * *

-o-

* * *

She appears in the doorway to his bedroom two weeks later. He is so lost in his madness that he doesn’t even raise his head from his pillow.

He’s unsure if she is real or just some specter his mind is projecting to taunt him further.

“Go away,” he orders, unsure if he is talking to her or the voices whispering in his ear.

“Kakashi said you haven’t been showing up to work,” she declares.

He flinches at the sound of her voice. She’s real then.

Sakura frowns, and Shikamaru is unsure of what she is going to do. He doesn’t want to rehash their fight, doesn’t want to go through the turmoil of having her walk out the door again, but he can’t bring himself to reach out to her.

Sakura is light, untainted by his darkness, and he can’t sully her any further.

They are both silent for a long while, expectant. Shikamaru contemplates rolling over and ignoring her, hoping that she’ll catch the hint and leave him alone.

Instead, she makes her way further into the room, coming to stand beside where he is laying in his bed. With a gentle nudge to his shoulder she says, “Move over.”

Every sentence, practiced and rehearsed in his brain, dissolves into ashes on his tongue.

Turning, she leaves him, silently moving through his room to extinguish the lights, to check the traps one by one, and draw the curtains shut. She’s let the shadows in.

When there is nothing more but the low glow of the light from the hallway, Sakura pads softly over to the mattress. Shikamaru is still staring at her, as if he’s never seen her before. She offers him a small, strained smile, and Shikamaru can feel something inside him tremble.

Carefully, she climbs into bed, crawling over him to wedge herself between the wall and the left side of his body. When she has settled herself in the crook of his arm, her hand resting lightly on his chest where she can feel the dull thumping of his heart against her palm, Sakura allows herself the words she had been avoiding the entire time she had been with him.

“Tell me about them,” she whispers into the dark.

He flinches, a distressed sound bubbling up under the tips of her fingers. He swallows thickly, then murmurs, “It doesn’t make for the best conversation.”

Sakura curls in closer.

“That may be so,” she replies, her hand stroking down his front, memorizing the texture of him. His heart does a flip in his chest. “But it’s not something that you need to carry alone.”

“Okay,” he breathes. After another moment’s pause repeats more firmly, “ _Okay._ ”

* * *

-o-

* * *

After that, he doesn’t have any trouble sleeping.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I have a [tumblr](https://nerazennxx.tumblr.com/)! Come by and say hi!


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